What's In A Name?
by Ayumu Kasuga
Summary: a set of vignettes on each and every primary cast character, and several minor ones for a total of eleven fics. I think I can manage eleven small ones. SMALL, being the key word here.
1. Hisoka Kurosaki

**Authoress' Notes:** Well, everybody. Look, I'm back on 8DD;; I'll be updating this series of vignettes rather quickly and often, I should hope. There are ELEVEN stories here, and each of them are devoted to a certain character in the Yami no Matsuei universe. I hope you'll enjoy it.

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Hisoka- it's a name that spills secrets, stays secretive, and becomes a secret, like a whisper of lace, like a soft touch of a finger tracing patterns on your cheek. It's the rustling of cloth, the waver of a fan, the grace of an arrow.

'Hisoka' is the name that, in English, had you known it, mean 'secret' in the intricate kanji that you trace over and over again, on your walls. 'Hisoka' is the word you know when you find that there is something to hide; nothing to hide- bad habits, old scars, magic spells that light up the night like a dying nightingale's cry.

The name that describes something indescribable, like a beauty so rare, so gentle, so damn beautiful it borders on unearthly ugliness. A shine, sheer like the spider webs catching dew that emanates from the thought of the name.

It's the name used for a lonely little boy, whisked into a dark corner like yesterday's trash; an innocent child too afraid to feel, when he's feeling other people's feelings. Feelings that serve to alienate, to ostracize, and Hisoka begins to become more of a secret, than a proud son.

It describes tears like a soft rainfall, water streaming down from a jailhouse beneath the feet of laughing humans who never forgot the fact that they had a son- a monstrous beast possessed by some unearthly power.

Hisoka, the name used to describe the little boy who was always left behind, forgotten.

And Hisoka cries.


	2. Asato Tsuzuki

**Authoress's Notes:** Yo. I've written a total of three vignettes for this, really. So I'll post these initially, and update regularly until I have all eleven, I hope. I wrote this one rather quickly, while I still had a bit of inspiration. I hope it doesn't sound too... um. whiny? 8D;;

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I'm not too tall. I'm not too short. I'm not too fat, I'm not too skinny. There's nothing wrong with me. I have black hair like the rest of you; I have knobbly knees, a bit, but Luka says I'll grow out of them.

So what's wrong with me?

I'm happy a lot. I smile- and Luka says that's a good thing, smiling. I smile a lot, I laugh a lot. Luka says I eat a lot, too- but she says it's okay, because I'm still growing.

Luka says she loves me. Why don't you?

I'm always hanging around, I'm always trying to make friends- so why don't you like me? I'm trying. I'm trying really, really hard, I am.

Why can't you at least say my name?

'Asato'. Why can't you say that? Why do call me 'demon'? Why do you ignore me when I talk, only to hit me, if I try to get closer to you?

I won't hurt you. I want to have friends, I want to play with you.

I want you to acknowledge me, so I know I'm real; so I know I'm human, and not some 'demon'. Luka says calling people that is mean.

Why won't you like me? I don't understand. I'm looking at it through my eyes, and you say I'm ugly, I'm a beast, I'm evil.

Why won't you like me?


	3. Yutaka Watari

**Authoress' Notes:** This one is a bit more obscure, I think- but you'll be able to tell by chapter title and the giveaway hint. I think. I hope. :D How are you liking these vignettes so far, I wonder?

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You cannot possibly know me.

I am a magnificent creation of the gods- I am life, I am death, and I am the afterlife. I am the flower that blooms when the gardener sleeps, safe and warm in his bed. I begin to open my petals to the moon, unearthly and ethereal, golden as the rays of the sun that I shy away from.

I sit alone, I eat alone, I live alone, with no companionship- as it should be. Every rose has it's thorns, and I need mine, lest I become hurt by stayng too close.

I am the beautiful product of the union of Life and Death, and in my dreams, I see Heaven. I see Hell. I see that mysterious region that so many are afraid of, and I smile.

My long tresses make you laugh, my body makes you point and smirk. My expression never changes in the face of your adversity, at your laughter, at your ridicule.

But just you wait.

I'll aspire to be something that makes you so surprised, that you wouldn't dare put that great creature with my name. My creations of metal, of gears and sweat, they soothe me, they tell me of the legend I'll write.

Someday.

And then, it'll be my turn to laugh, bold as brass, bright as gold, a smile on my face like the shine in my hair, my teeth, my eyes.

Someday. You'll see.


	4. Kazutaka Muraki

**Authoress' Notes:** Just a bit of speculation as to who she is, I guess. And an old story, new updates!

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"You're so formal, Kazutaka."

That's what she says, the first day I meet her. That woman- the woman who bore my monstrous half-brother.

I am staring- it's hard not to, with this beautiful creature. She seems to be almost entirely composed of light; her eyes are shining, her hair is lustrous, and her laugh seems to sparkle in midair. Her fingers- so cool, so delicate- rest on my wrist, her skin as smooth as alabaster.

She is smiling again, and I realize that I have not been listening, too occupied by watching her sweet mouth move to form the words that my ears fall deaf to.

It is only the words, however. When she says my name again- Kazutaka- in that sweet, clear voice, I feel as a man shaken out from a dream, only to find himself face-to-face with an angel. Her voice is what lulls me back into a pleasant dream once again, that trance that makes me feel as if we are the only two people on earth.

Alone, just the two of us.

Ukyo and I.


	5. Gushoshin

**Authoress' Notes:** I've never seen a fic / ficlet centered on these two.. So I figured, why not? :D

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We're always together. My brother is never far from me, and I am never too far from him. We look alike, we laugh alike, we think alike. He is I, I am II. We are things created from Enma's thought, designed to keep the records immaculate and accurate.

Never, had we had the chance to explain ourselves- what is there to explain? The Gushoshin Brothers, the little chicken-like figures that seem to be sculpted from clay when God was drunk.

He had explained to me once, when we were very young- still incoherent forms of thought in Enma's mind- that he was my brother, and that I was his. That he and I would be twins, and he told me how I would be younger, and he would be older. That he would take care of me.

We are always together, he and I. Lumped together as Gushoshin, we keep each other's company as we spend long, slow, dark hours attatched to our computers to fill in more and more information on the dead.

How ironic, that we can create dead men, but not living ones. But he and I do not create- we simply record. He and I. We.

Gushoshin. The difference in a simple Roman numeral that keeps us apart, makes us whole. When there is a I, there must be a II.

My brother and I are never far apart.


	6. Seiichiro Tatsumi

**Authoress' Notes:** Wondering how you like this series so far... And also, character interaction!

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**My family has never let me want for anything. We are extraordinarily prominent- we are even related to the Emperor, albeit somewhat distantly.

I am the first male in my generation. My mother has impressed upon me the importance of education; I excel in mathematics, Japanese classical literature, calligraphy, bookkeeping, and my eye for art is unparalelled.

So why is it, that I, Tatsumi Seiichiro, happen to be walking- walking, yes- alongside a common dirt road?

My mother has died, and left me, at the age of six, to care for my family matters. Should the family know that I am about to walk into a loud and dirty commoner's market? The open market only consists of booths and tents, as they peddle cheap wares to unsuspecting customers. I scoff at their pitiful tactics- don't they know that the barter system had been abolished nearly five emperors ago?

A young man runs past me, his dark brown hair flying in the wind as he calls to an older woman.

"C'mon, Luka-neechan! Hurry, or else there won't be anything left in the market!"

His voice is so light, so gleeful, makes me long to ask exactly what is it that will run out, if they don't hurry? How is it, that you can live in such conditions and still retain that voice? Was it just me, or did the boy's eyes flash like the clearest of amethysts?

I shake my head, and turn around. The open market was at my back now, and I begin to head home, wistfully thinking of the freedom that came with dirty clothes and a clear smile.


	7. Hakushaku

**Authoress's Notes:** This was a particularly difficult piece, simply because the Count is not a character that is explored thoroughly enough. So I took what I knew, and wrote this.

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Another year.

I have to last these few 52 weeks- or else I won't be able to focus. On anything.

...still 365 days. Thank Enma- if not anything else- it's not 366, else I might go mad.

525600 minutes. Only 525600 minutes.

31536000 seconds. Why does it seem so long now?

31559998 seconds left.

31559997.

31559996.

Why does time drag on so? But my candles flicker, and the shadows throw their eerie images on the wall, through me.

31559994.

Counting the seconds down as the candles flicker to a dim blackness- 31559986.

And so on, and so forth.


End file.
